


Trials, Version 2.0

by laniew1



Series: Version, Update [3]
Category: Ringer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laniew1/pseuds/laniew1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bridget’s going to do the right thing, and Andrew will wait for her to return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trials, Version 2.0

**Trials, Version 2.0**

  
He forgets that Bridget is not theirs sometimes, she has a life that does not contain Andrew and Juliet and about the time that he looks at her and thinks ‘ _I’m in love with her_ ’ is the time that Agent Machado returns.

The FBI has never been gone, there have been extra guards in the lobby and whenever Bridget ventures outside she has, at the very least, one armed bodyguard.

She doesn’t go out very much. Explaining away the bodyguard when, save for himself and Juliet, no one is aware she isn’t Siobhan is time consuming and an annoyance that Bridget doesn’t like dealing with.

There’s an added bonus that people are starting to look for a baby bump, since _Siobhan_ should be visibly pregnant at this point and time and Bridget is very obviously _not_.

“I could have a miscarriage,” Bridget offers and Andrew shakes his head, somewhere Machado is shaking his as well.

“Then you would have to be in a hospital and you would require more than one guard,” Andrew says.

Bridget hates the guards, but Machado is taking no chances of her fleeing again even though Andrew is quite aware, if only from the news that at least this time Bridget is not the sole witness against Macawi.

She’s still one of their pivotal ones though.

He hears the buzzer at the door as he’s making his way to the kitchen, he can hear Bridget and Juliet already in there, talking in soft voices so he makes a detour to answer it.

“Good morning Mr. Martin,” Victor Machado is standing there and he looks grim and serious.

Andrew doesn’t like the feeling that him standing in their doorway invokes, he’s not had Agent Machado in their space since he brought Bridget home from the clinic with him.

“Andrew, did we mistime your bagel this morning?” Bridget calls from the direction of the kitchen, she sounds amused and happy.

“May I come in?” Victor asks and Andrew nods his head slightly, when Victor is past him and in the penthouse he closes his eyes for just a moment to attempt to regain his sense of equilibrium.

He pushes the door closed and turns.

Victor looks understanding, which is something that Andrew doesn’t want from him.

Understanding implies that he knows how Andrew feels, and he doesn’t have the first clue how Andrew feels. How having Bridget here is like having the Siobhan that he first met back. The one that was kind and generous and liked being around him and with him.

How he and Bridget and Juliet are forming their own familial bonds that have nothing to do with Siobhan besides the small, inconsequential point that if they hadn’t known Siobhan they would have absolutely no reason to have Bridget.

“She’s in the kitchen,” he says quickly. He can see Victor’s mouth opening like he’s going to offer some meaningless platitude, offer some quick bite of commentary that Andrew could just as easily do without.

Victor arches a brow and turns to walk in the direction of the voices, Andrew follows. Because he has no choice, but also because of Victor is going to take Bridget away so that she can stare down a monster, then at least she’ll know that she has his support in that matter.

  


******************************************************************************

  
“Was there someone at the door, dad?” Juliet asks, she doesn’t turn but she probably sees the expression on Bridget’s face as her toast drops from her fingers.

“Bridget,” Victor says.

“So I guess this means that it’s that time, again?” Bridget says, her face can’t seem to settle into one expression, the muscles twitching as she bites at her lips, there’s fear and sadness and regret and she’s swallowing convulsively over and over again.

Andrew knows enough about Bridget Kelly now to know that she’s trying to force herself to _not_ cry, even though she’s desperate to.

He yearns to pull her into his arms, to cradle her and protect her. But Agent Machado is standing there and as much as he’s not embarrassed by his feelings for Bridget, she’s still technically his sister-in-law and her sister is still technically just missing.

  


******************************************************************************

  
He goes with them to the airport; they’ll apparently still have guards, most especially when they venture out of the penthouse. The outcome of the trial will dictate whether Bridget gets to return to them, or whether she goes into witness protection.

Victor is pushing for witness protection; Andrew is pushing for Bridget to be returned to them in exactly the condition that they released her over to the FBI in.

“You have keys,” Andrew says, “this will all be over in a few days and you’ll come home.”

Bridget just looks at him, there’s sadness and longing there and he reaches out to wrap his hand around hers.

She twists her hand under his and laces cold fingers with his, squeezing. He pulls her close, holds her against him and presses his lips to her forehead. He can feel her trembling as she clings to him and he wishes that he had the right words to say that would make her less scared.

He keeps her held tight against him even as he feels the car slow and veer gently to the right. He glances out the window and can see the airport terminal there as the car stops and is evidently pulled into park.

“I wish,” Bridget says, her voice is muffled by his shoulder. “I wish I could have played pretend forever.” Andrew pulls back and he can see that her eyes are wet. He runs his thumbs over her cheeks and they come away damp.

“We would have been happy,” she says.

“You weren’t happy these last few months?” Andrew asks. “Because I was.”

“But if I were still her, if I were still Siobhan, I wouldn’t have to leave,” Bridget says, she brushes a hand against her cheek angrily.

“But Siobhan did leave me,” Andrew reminds her, “Siobhan left Juliet and I and she sent us you in her place. I was planning to file for separation, to start divorce proceedings when you came into our lives. And you were like having Siobhan as I first met her back, fun and loving.”

“I don’t want to go,” she whispers.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he says, “What you’re doing is scary and dangerous, but also incredibly brave, because the alternative is leaving an awful man on the street to continue to do awful things,” he strokes a hand down the side of her face, smoothes her hair back from her cheek.

“Andrew…”

“It’s the right thing, and I’ll, _we’ll_ be waiting for you when you some back, we’ll have a popcorn and movie night and I’ll let Juliet and you pick out the most vapid awful movies that you can think of and we’ll make sure you know that you’re safe,” Andrew draws her closer. Presses his lips against hers and he can feel her hand come up to his cheek to keep him from moving away.

They kissed when he thought she was Siobhan, but this is their first kiss with her as herself and as first kisses go it is quite chaste.

But he is still technically a married man and she is still technically going off to testify against a homicidal maniac.

“You go be brave,” Andrew says, pulling back just slightly but tilting forward so their foreheads are pressed together. “When you’re done you’ll come home.”

Bridget cups the side of his face in her hand, she smiles at him and he prefers to see the smile and not the sadness lingering in her eyes.

“Goodbye, Andrew,” she says, she kisses him quickly, barely a press of her lips before she’s twisting away and opening the door and leaving.

The door closes behind her and he’s left sitting in the seat, hand still reaching out to where Bridget was just sitting moments before.

“Goodbye, Bridget.”

  


******************************************************************************

  
He’d been going to go into the office; he brought his satchel with him and was completely prepared to immerse himself in work in order to distract himself from Bridget leaving.

He doesn’t, he has the car take him home and there have always been guards but the ones that are stationed there now are very noticeably FBI. Their posture and the fact that they scan the faces of every single person entering and leaving the building, the guards that are normally there, that will be there again when this is all over don’t much care who comes in and leaves unless someone raises a fuss.

He nods to one of them and steps into the elevator, he rolls his shoulders in the privacy of the lift, wonders if Bridget and Machado have arrived at their destination or if they’re still enroute.

Wonders if Machado is making sure she eats and naps and that she’s not bored or scared. Though he thinks the last is an inevitability.

He tries not to think about that fact that he misses her and he doesn’t think about what he and Juliet are going to do with the time that had been carved out as Bridget’s.

It’s only for a few days, he thinks. At the most a couple of weeks.

He opens the door, steps inside and places his satchel on the table before he closes it.

“Juliet? I’m home,” he calls, it’s soft, so if she doesn’t want to answer him she doesn’t _have_ to answer him.

“In here dad,” he hears her call, there’s something… odd about her voice and he has his keys in his hand still, closes his hand around them as he walks towards the living room.

“Are you okay?” he asks, just before he rounds the corner.

Juliet turns to face him and the expression on her face is one that he hasn’t seen in while. She moves to the side and he can see… it’s not Bridget, he knows this.

This is Siobhan, a very visibly pregnant Siobhan and it strikes him suddenly, like a punch in a gut that as much as he’d _wanted_ to have a child with Siobhan before, he really _doesn’t_ want this child to be his.

She smiles at him, like she can tell what he’s thinking, what he’s hoping and knows that she’s going to do anything in her power to crush whatever hopes and dreams he’d had about maybe beginning anew with Bridget beneath her heels.

“Hello, Andrew,” she says and he desperately misses Bridget with her warm, sad eyes and bright smile and the fact that she’d actually seemed to _like_ him.

  


******************************************************************************

  
Juliet is hiding in her room, Andrew wishes he could do the same. Instead he sits opposite Siobhan and pointedly doesn’t look at her rounded stomach.

She should be almost eight months pregnant, and there is a very miniscule chance that the child she is carrying could be his, though he also knows that any free time she could manage that didn’t look suspicious she was spending in bed with Henry.

He’d liked Henry once, thought him a friend.

He’d been wrong of course, Henry wasn’t a friend.

“Where were you?” he asks. He keeps his voice soft and doesn’t look over at her, sitting nestled in the pictures on the mantle is one of Bridget, Juliet and himself. Bridget is leaning into one side of him, both arms wrapped around his chest, he has one arm over her shoulder holding her close, the other arm is over Juliet’s shoulder keeping her in place for the picture when she would have darted away.

They’re all smiling, they look like a family.

“In Paris,” she says, he looks at her from the corner of his eye and can see her press a hand to her belly, she rubs gentle circles.

She looks soft, maternal, loving except when she looks at him.

“Did you sleep with her?” she asks and he looks over at her with narrowed eyes, that _almost_ sounded jealous.

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” he states.

“She’s my sister, my _twin sister_ and you are my husband, I think if anyone deserves to know it would be me,” her voice sounds harsh and betrayed and he laughs at the thought that there was anything left to betray.

“Don’t play the cuckolded spouse, Siobhan, it doesn’t suit you. And if you want to play the part of the betrayed and humiliated spouse let me remind you that you left me long before you actually _physically_ decided to flee the premises and allow Bridget a spot in our lives.”

“She wasn’t supposed to take my place,” Siobhan says, growls really and Andrew wonders what her plan had actually been. She’d had one he’s sure, Siobhan always has a plan.

“Then what was she supposed to do? You knew what was happening in her life, what had you planned for her to do?”

“I left her money, she was supposed to take it and leave,” Siobhan says. “I should have guessed that she would have seen the opportunity to play me and take it.”

Andrew arches a brow.

“Oh don’t look at me like that; we’ve switched places before, not recently, mostly when we were kids just to see if we could. If anyone would notice that we had. She always thought that people treated her differently, better when she was playing me.”

“What do you hope to accomplish by coming back?” he asks. Changes the subject really, because he knows when Siobhan is lying to him and he knows that she’s lying to him right now and he doesn’t have the energy at the moment to call her on it.

“You’re my husband,” she says. Her hand is still on her stomach, resting there now and she looks over at him. “And we’re having a baby.”

He smiles at her and her smile fades so he knows what his expression must look like.

“You got pregnant when? Sometime in late June? Early July? How many times did we sleep together in that time period, do you remember?”

“Andrew…”

“We slept together once, Siobhan,” he leans close to her, rests a hand over top of hers, he squeezes her fingers. “Exactly once.”

“It only _takes_ one time, Andrew, you should know that as well I.”

“How many times did you sleep with Henry in that time period? I believe it was at _least_ every other day, if not more.”

“Henry’s married,” she says. He wonders if she’s going to try and deny it, she opens her mouth to continue but then stops, mouth snapping shut.

“Yes, and so were you. It stopped neither of you at the time and I don’t believe it would stop either of you now.”

He lets go of her hand, moves to his feet and walks over to the mantle, he touches the picture, Bridget’s happy, smiling face, Juliet’s laughing one. He’s grinning, not laughing, not fully smiling but he’s got two of his favorite people tucked into his arms and standing beside him and at the time he’d needed nothing more.

“Do you think that even if I leave again that you get to have her?” Siobhan asks. “She’s _my sister_ , if I tell her to stay away, if I call her up and tell her that I’m home she won’t come back.”

“You would do that? To your own flesh and blood?” Andrew asks. He doesn’t know why he does, he knows she would. “Of course you would, you hadn’t spoken to her for years prior to this summer, never mind that I’ve assured her that this is her home now and she will always have a place here.”

“This is _my_ home, she’s just an interloper in it,” Siobhan snaps. “I’m just protecting what’s mine.”

“No, you just can’t stand that she’s happy, that _we_ were happy without you here. That we didn’t fall to pieces and wail against the fates for taking you away. We moved on and we lived our lives and we made ties that were in no way connected to you.”

“Except for the fact that she was playing at being me.”

“Not for months, she’s been Bridget, just Bridget for far longer then she was playing at being Siobhan,” he takes the steps back to her, comes down into a crouch in front of her. “And I have to say, and mind you this is only _my_ opinion, you would have to ask Juliet and Henry and Gemma what they thought. But I think I liked _her_ version of you far better then I ever liked yours.”

It’s cruel he knows, so he’s not surprised when she slaps him, he has been goading her. The sound of it echoes in the room, her hand connecting with his cheek. It doesn’t hurt, just stings, though he’s sure that it’ll leave a red mark across his face.

“I’ll call my lawyer, your bedroom is as you left it though I believe Bridget may have left a few things in there, I’ll have them shifted to my room. You should call Henry,” he says.

He doesn’t look at her again, just goes back to the front door to grab his satchel off the table; he walks down the hallway to his office, closing the door firmly.

He can hear music going behind Juliet’s door and though he hears footsteps in the hallway, Siobhan doesn’t attempt to venture into his office.

He sits behind his desk, buries his head in his hands and breathes.

  


******************************************************************************

  
Juliet watches the news at night, if Andrew is home, which is more frequently then he should probably be he watches it with her.

They’re both looking for news, waiting for the information that says that Bodaway Macawi is going away for a very long time and that Bridget will be returning.

There are small blurbs each night, trial in progress. He catches a glimpse of her during a broadcast on Tuesday.

She looks small and tiny, surrounded by FBI and Marshal’s as they usher her into the courthouse. He’s had no contact with her since that day at the airport; Agent Machado had said that the silence was necessary.

‘ _No sense in giving them a target to try and force her to keep quiet_ ,’ he said at the time.

Siobhan comes out of her room when they’re sitting there watching the news, she and Juliet pick and poke at each other.

“Have you heard anything?” she asks on Thursday. It’s been three days since Bridget left and Siobhan returned. The air in the penthouse is frigid and reminds him of the way things were before she’d left.

“No,” he says, he doesn’t look at her, just rolls his shoulders and stares at the television. “But Agent Machado said that he believed any contact would be a bad idea.”

“Shh,” Juliet hisses at them and Siobhan narrows her eyes at her while Juliet fumbles for the remote to turn up the volume on the TV.

“The trial of Bodaway Macawi continued today after a brief delay this morning due to reports of gunfire outside the courthouse,” the reporter is saying, Andrew’s eyes are drawn behind her where he can see the movement of cops and cars and an area that very much looks it’s been cordoned off with police tape. His chest hurts and it’s the only thing that reminds him to breathe.

“The Prosecution called its final witness yesterday after two days of testimony from law enforcement, Bridget Kelly is the only eye witness to the murder that Bodaway Macawi is on trial for and as such has been subject to much scrutiny by both sides. Reports of shots fired were timed with Ms. Kelly’s arrival at the courthouse and no injuries were reported although the trial was delayed for several hours while the police conducted a search of the area.”

Andrew presses a hand to his chest and reaches across the couch, Juliet latches onto his hand, squeezing tightly, fingernails digging into the top and side of his hand.

Siobhan has a hand pressed to her stomach; she looks pale though when she notices Andrew looking at her face evens out and her eyes narrow.

“I’m going to go lay down,” she says, she scoots forward in the chair and stands awkwardly.

She leaves the room and Juliet is still clutching at his hand.

  


******************************************************************************

  
He tries Machado’s phone incessantly, voice mail, voice mail, voice mail, he’s getting more and frustrated (and scared though he doesn’t voice that out loud or even to himself).

“Dad?” Juliet’s voice is soft, she’s in the doorway looking small and young and he wishes that he had something to tell her. But there’s nothing to tell because he can’t get Machado to answer his phone.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. He’s lying, she knows that he’s lying, but he’s her father and she’s scared, so at this point he thinks that she’ll choose to believe him over the evidence that shows that he doesn’t know that.

  


******************************************************************************

  
“Do you really think that she’s going to make you happy?” Siobhan is as curled up in the chair in the corner of his office as she can get considering her very pregnant state. He hadn’t noticed her when he walked in and he probably should have. At one point he would have been almost physically attuned to her presence, mostly so that he could avoid her.

“I think that’s not any of your business,” he says, he has papers on his desk and he shuffles them into a pile, he’d got a call from his lawyer earlier, the paperwork had been delivered to Siobhan. She hadn’t signed them, he hadn’t really expected her to, though he’d like to have things with Siobhan closer to a resolution before Bridget returns.

If she ever returns, the trial is done, guilty verdict as Andrew had known there would be. Still there’s been no calls from Bridget or Agent Machado.

“Have you talked to Henry?” he asks. He knows she hasn’t, mostly because Gemma hasn’t called him wanting to know what the hell is going on.

“You know I haven’t,” she says. Her voice sounds small, she _sounds_ like Bridget.

“You should,” Andrew says. He sits in his chair, pulling it close to his desk. He doesn’t look at her.

“The baby could still be yours.”

He laughs, it sounds slightly bitter even to his own ears. He doesn’t want to care about the baby that Siobhan is carrying.

He does though.

“Sign the papers, Siobhan. And talk to Henry.”

“Why? To make you feel better about the fact that you’ve been fucking around with my sister,” she snaps.

“You know that I’ve not laid a hand on her,” he says calmly. She’s trying to bait him, she most likely has a tape recorder going in the hopes of catching him admitting in infidelity or something close to it.

“You thought about it.”

“Hmm, I didn’t realize that you were psychic,” he muses. “Is that a twin power that I should worry Bridget has as well?”

Siobhan makes a sound that’s only very slightly removed from a growl, he smiles to himself.

  


******************************************************************************

  
He hears a key in the door and he’s taking a stock of who’s home and who’s not and trying to quell the tiny bit of hope that the fact that there’s a key turning in the lock.

Siobhan is locked in her own bedroom, Juliet is curled up on the opposite end of the couch from him.

There’s been no news; Macawi is going away for a very long time but he’d been slightly afraid that Machado had convinced Bridget to go into Witness Protection after all.

He’d have thought that Machado would have told them, even through discreet channels, especially since he’d made it perfectly clear that he’d wanted Bridget to come home when it was all said and done.

Juliet turns the volume down on the TV and she stares at the doorway, waiting, like him for whoever else has a key to walk into the room.

It’s taking too long; he’s half-pushed himself off the couch when Bridget appears in the entranceway. She looks tired and pale; she’s wearing no makeup and her hair is pulled into a haphazard ponytail.

She’s the most beautiful thing that he’s seen in several weeks.

Juliet squeals and is across the room before Andrew even thinks about moving; her arms wrapped around Bridget and Andrew is smiling, beaming really.

“Hi, Andrew,” she says, her eyes are locked on his over his daughter’s shoulder and he wants nothing more then to be part of their group hug he takes the seven steps to them and wraps arms around both of them.

“Hello, Bridget,” he presses a kiss to the top of her head and he should tell her about her sister in the other bedroom and he should tell her about everything that has happened in the weeks that she’s been gone.

But those things will wait, for a while anyway.

  



End file.
